I Stand
by In.The.DiNozzone
Summary: What if she doesn’t come through…? There was no way. They had planned this, make everyone believe she was dead- deal with the cancer, stay in hiding. Of course- there had never been a flaw in the plan until she’d actually been shot… AU; Rating will go up.
1. Where Do I Begin?

Disclaimer; I own nothing, unfortunately. 'Cause obviously if I did, Jen would be alive ;) And thus, I don't own NCIS. Because she's clearly dead on the show. Boo...

Author's note; On a happier note- I do own Jay 3 You'll all see more of him in later chapters. This is an AU, obviously- since, you know, there's Jay, and Jen's living. Read, and review ;) Enjoy.

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_What__ if she doesn't come through…?_ _There was no way. They had planned this, make everyone believe she was dead- deal with the cancer, stay in hiding. Of course- there had never been a flaw in the plan until she'd actually been shot…_

Ducky waited patiently at the bedside, slipping in and out of consciousness. He'd been there for hours- maybe even a full day and a half. He stifled a yawn and stood, inspecting the unconscious woman in a drug-induced sleep. She'd apparently woken and been just fine- but groggy. When they brought her back to the room, she'd been soundly sleeping again. "I do hope you wake up soon, my dear." He said quietly, brushing a lock of reddish blond hair from her forehead. He turned and picked up his jacket, pausing near the door when he heard her move and say something. He stared intently, wondering if maybe she was talking in her sleep.

She shifted slowly, hissing at the extreme pain in her shoulder and trying to make an effort to look at it. She couldn't move, she felt so heavy. Everything felt so heavy. She didn't even want to open her eyes. She felt dizzy and drugged. She tried to lift her right arm but the pain near her shoulder stopped her from doing that. She groaned softly at the white stars that danced in her blurred vision from the pain in her arm as she opened her eyes. She looked down, moving her fingers slowly and feeling slightly relieved she could at least do that much. She tried to move her legs, but they felt so heavy too. She felt like she had a ton and a half of lead under every inch of her skin.

She looked up, and saw someone at the door but she couldn't quite make him or her out. "Ducky?" She tried to speak, but her throat and her mouth felt so dry so her voice was merely a raspy croak. She cleared her throat weakly, struggling and desperate to speak. "Ducky, is that you?" She asked quietly, lifting her left arm slowly. It took her arm a few moments to catch up with her brain and she finally moved, rubbing her eyes.

"Ah, Jennifer. I was wondering when you would decide to wake up." He said quietly, walking over to the bed edge and setting his coat down once more. "How are you feeling?"

"Drugged." She admitted, weakly moving her good hand through her hair and tugging a lock of it curiously, looking up. Why was her hair this short? She shook her head slightly, taking a deep, slow breath and dropping her hand to her side again. "Where is Jay?" She asked quietly, opening her eyes slowly and glancing over at the man sharing her current personal space.

So far, she seemed normal but there was something… that didn't seem quite right. "He is in bed, more than likely sleeping peacefully." He said softly, reassuring her that her son was just fine. "He will be staying with me until you're alright to leave here. How is your arm?"

"Hurts like a bitch. What the hell happened?" She asked, looking up at him curiously.

"You were shot, my dear. It wasn't part of the plan, and I wasn't quite sure you'd make it through for a while." He admitted sheepishly, frowning slightly. It had to be the shock of it- maybe the blood loss. People who were in gunfights often had temporary amnesia.

"Where's Jethro?" She asked, suddenly full of questions now that she was awake.

"You know he thinks you're dead. That was part of the plan; make everyone believe you were dead so we could…" His brow furrowed in concern when he realized what it was that seemed off. "What year is it?" He asked, wondering if maybe she had it worse than he'd suspected.

"'99, why would you ask me that? Isn't there a calendar around here?" She asked, raising an eyebrow, "I know you're not that young Ducky, but I know you're not senile." She gave him a particularly odd look, reaching up to weakly scratch at the tube across her face, which she hadn't noticed until that moment. She heaved a small sigh, wincing at the hot pain that coursed through her arm and shoulder.

"Nineteen…ninety-nine?" He repeated slowly, face falling into a slightly worried expression. "Oh dear."

Jen raised an eyebrow, wondering what had gotten into him. "Ducky? Something wrong?" She asked impatiently.

"It's just… That it's two thousand and eight." He said slowly, concern darkening his features a little more when she looked confused by this information.

* * *

_*Phoof*_?


	2. Gorgeous

_ Three weeks in this place had been far more than enough for her._

Jen struggled for a few moments, but finally got her sweater on, sighing heavily once she did. "I have decided I don't like getting dressed now." She said quietly, putting her left arm into her coat and looking over at Jay. "Help." She said softly, wincing when she moved her right arm the wrong way.

The boy got up from his seat at the window and helped her get the coat over her right shoulder very carefully before backing away again, not wanting to put her through anymore pain than she was already in. "Are you gonna be okay, mom?" He asked quietly, "'Cause you know that I can stay home and take care of you, right?"

Jen laughed softly, holding her jacket and standing. "Ducky, you know you didn't have to stay. I am perfectly capable of taking a cab." She said as she picked up her bag, wincing at the throbbing pain in her other arm. She was definitely not looking forward to the next year and a half of physical therapy.

Ducky smiled a little, taking the bag from her and shooing them both from the room. "It's not a problem, my dear. Don't be ridiculous. Besides, I'm already here and you're already ready to go."

She smiled, laughing softly as she made her way down the hall with Jay at her good side and Ducky close behind. "I can carry that." She said softly, dropping back a few steps to walk next to him. "Are you really sure we can stay with you for a few days?"

"You know it's not a problem, Jennifer. I have that great big house all to myself and it's been rather quiet since Mother left. Besides, Jasper is great company-" He was cut off politely by the boy on Jen's other side.

"He has so many stories, mom. Were you really kidnapped by a crazy guy and saved by Dad?" He asked, wide-eyed and curious.  
Jen looked over at Ducky, surprised by this. "That is a good question. Ducky? Was I?" She asked, looking just as curious as her son did.

"You don't remember," He said quietly, stepping into the elevator behind the two of them. "Yes. Jennifer, it sounds like I have a few stories to tell you as well." He sighed, watching Jay eagerly jab at the button for the parking garage before returning to his mother's side.

She sighed deeply, dropping her head and wincing, standing up straight again when she discovered putting her head down caused pain in her shoulder. "I guess so…" She said softly, sighing softly once more and leaning back on the wall gingerly, favoring her left side. She reached up, rubbing her face and letting out a soft sigh- clearly frustrated and trying to hide it. "Maybe another day. I just want to lay down when we get back." She chose a spot on the elevator of the ceiling and stared at it intently. This wasn't going to be easy.

_*******_

Ducky was making his way down the hall and paused at the room one of his current houseguests was occupying. He knocked on the door when he noticed she was just sitting there with her head down. "Jennifer, are you alright?" He asked, watching her carefully for a few moments.

Jen started from her thoughts, looking up at him and wincing when she'd moved a little too quickly. "Yes, Ducky. I'm all right. Just waiting for these damn pills to kick in so I can lay back down." She sighed, tugging her blanket a little closer to her. "You know, you get shot- and you just wonder if it's a feeling you'll ever get used to… But you never do. It hurts just as much every time, especially if it's in a different place every time. At least now I have matching scars." She laughed softly, her laugh coming to an abrupt halt when she realized how painful laughing was at the moment. She stared at her good hand for a few long moments and then looked up at him. "So. I've really lost that much? Almost ten years?"

His expression was solemn as he walked in and sat down on the edge of the bed, but he couldn't- no, wouldn't- lie to her. "Yes. I wish I knew why, my dear, but my best guess would be between the pills you took to make your heart slow- even though they saved your life, you lost enough blood to cause extreme shock." He explained quietly, "They figured, though, they might as well have done both surgeries since it was safer that way- it's safer to do more than one surgery under one round of anesthesia. Nothing was wrong with your brain- they got rid of the cancer no problem, so your memory loss could be a result of your injury much like when Jethro suffered memory loss when he was in that explosion two years ago."

She let out an audible breath, "He what?" She asked, looking both shocked and worried.

Ducky stared at her for a few moments, realizing she didn't remember being Director at all or anything that happened. "Yes. And it was you who helped him regain his memory," He said quietly, "He pulled through and went right back to normal- even when no one but you believed he would."

She relaxed, looking slightly relieved- but still very confused. "So. I still talk to him?"

He shook his head, "Jennifer, everyone thinks you're dead. I've already explained this to you."

She nodded, "Right. Sorry. Go on." She sighed, dropping her head again.

"Thank you." He said softly, "You don't remember being Director or anything at all from the past eight years? What about Ziva, does that name mean a thing to you?"

She looked up thoughtfully, as if trying to recall. "It's a very nice name. But who is Ziva?" She asked.

He looked slightly saddened by her words. "You don't remember Ziva? What about Anthony or Abigail?"

She shook her head, "No. Who are they?" She asked, looking slightly aggravated by him now.

"Jethro's team. Who do you know?" He asked, trying to find how far her memory loss had stretched.

"There's no one named Anthony on Jethro's team. It's just me and Leon and Jethro." She gave him a strange look; for some reason the name Ziva continued to nag at the back of her mind. She knew that name from somewhere.

He saw the look in her eyes like something was bothering her deep in the back of her mind. "What about Stephanie. Do you know her?" He asked simply.

Her eyes darkened slightly at the name- it made her jealous, although she wasn't entirely sure why it made her feel like that. "No."

He nodded slowly. "Looks like we've got a lot of talking to do, my dear. For now, maybe you should get some rest." He suggested, standing up and making his way toward the door. "We'll talk more once you've rested."

She sighed, frustrated completely now. "Can I call Jethro? Can I see him?" She asked, "Can't he know I'm alive?" He loved her- And she loved him- didn't he at least deserve to know she was alive? How much could have changed over eight years, really?

"Let's try to get some of your memories back first, shall we?" He suggested, "Lay down. Let young Jasper know if you need anything or if there's anything I can get for you." He pulled the door mostly closed and made his way downstairs to the dining room to write down what he knew so far. This was going to be a long and difficult process. There were a lot of missing pieces there that even he didn't know about.

_*******_

Jen sighed deeply, running her good hand through her hair and carefully laying down on her left side, being wary of her arm. She was starting to feel a little gross and groggy from the medication but still that name nagged her mind even through her drugged haze. Ziva… _Ziva…_ There was something missing there. She squinted at the intricate patterns in the lace curtain covering the window, which showed nothing but night sky beyond the glass. "David." She murmured, starting and opening her eyes. "David." She said again, she knew that name. "Ziva. David." She knew that woman. The face in her mind was blurred.

Her head began to pound at the same rate her arm throbbed and she got dizzy, relaxing against the pillows and forcing herself to sleep. She had a fitful sleep, one of memories she couldn't quite distinguish. Memories and dreams of Jethro and Paris- others of Cairo and this woman named Ziva. Although her mind stayed blurred and confused with the memories, whenever she thought of that _Ziva_ she got the same warm feeling she had for Jethro- just not as intense. There was something there, something strong- and something more than friendship with that woman. She woke a few times, but the heavy feeling from her painkillers forced her back into the fitful dreams over and over. She made a mental note to talk to Ducky about this … _Ziva, _and find out what she meant- what she was to her. Maybe he had pictures or something- she'd heard about studies before- that sometimes voices or pictures jogged the memory.


	3. Bonus 1: Just Don't Think I'll Ever

_**Disclaimer;** Still not owning NCIS. :(_

_**Note;** This chapter was actually not written by me. It was written by my lovely **Headslapdiva**. My favorite Gibbs :P And if I may say so myself, she did a mighty fine job with this. It's Gibbs' reaction to her being dead. It's between Judgment Day and Last Man Standing. Right after the team leaves after Jen 'died'. Just thought we'd throw in a bonus chapter now and then. Let me know what you think. ;) I'll be continuing the main running story again soon._

_The rating is also going to go to M in the next chapter. Letting this one slide as T is even extreme. It will definitely be going up to M soon._

_ The absolute only thing I did in this chapter was Jen's dialogue._  
_Anyway- To **Headslapdiva**, for her awesome, awesome writing!  
_

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_First Jenny, then his team. Could he be whole again?_

Leroy Jethro Gibbs didn't feel at all like himself. He kept sanding the boat, mulling over the experiences of the past week. It had been one of the hardest and longest weeks of his life, one he hoped never to relive again. First he had lost Jenny Shepard in that dusty diner in the middle of the California desert. Then his team had been split up by Leon – _Director_ Vance. He couldn't help but sneer when he thought of the man. It should have been Jenny in that office still, making the decisions on how to run NCIS. Not that rat bastard. He had never trusted Leon when they had worked together on Mike Franks' team. Why should he trust him now?

He almost jumped when he heard loud coughing upstairs, realizing Mike had woken up from his nap. He put the sanding block down and went upstairs. His mentor was on the couch, fiddling with a pack of cigarettes. "Damn it, Mike. Wish you'd quit smoking."

Mike looked up with a glare, putting another cigarette to his lips and reaching out for his lighter on the end table. "Don't lecture me from your high horse, Probie. Just 'cause you managed to kick the habit doesn't mean I have to." He lit the cigarette, and Gibbs winced at the memories the smell of smoke and nicotine brought back. Memories from a small, cramped apartment in the south of France, with _her_.

"Aw hell," he grumbled, reaching for the pack on the table. It had been years since he smoked last, and he prayed it wouldn't be like his very first time. He snatched the lighter from Mike's weathered hands and lit up, coughing hard after the first inhale. "God, how did I do this?" he wheezed between coughs, finally catching his breath after a few more coughing fits.

"Gotta remember, it's a lot like the tequila Jesus served at the cantina. Burns like hell with the first shot. Then it's smooth sailing the rest of the evening." Mike laughed and sat up. "You still thinkin' about Jenny?" It pained him to lie to his former partner. If his thinking was correct, and it usually was, Jenny was recovering from surgery to remove whatever was trying to kill her. He didn't want to get into the particulars with Dr. Mallard. It was all way over his head. Always had been.

Gibbs shook his head and took another drag from his cigarette, looking around for an ashtray. He found an empty Bud Light can from dinner the night before, and tapped the ash into the opening. "Trying not to." It was too painful. His hands had been on the body bag, he had almost opened it. But something stopped him. He didn't want to remember her like that, as one of Ducky's "patients" lying on a steel slab. He couldn't even bring himself to look at the crime scene photos. "Thanks for staying," he said, getting the sudden urge to drink. Why did smoking always do that to him? He ran downstairs and returned with a bottle of bourbon and retrieved two glasses from the kitchen. He wanted to forget everything that had happened; Jen's illness, her death, Leon as Director, his team gone.

Mike shook his head when he saw the bourbon. "That's not gonna help you forget, Probie." He rummaged around his bag and pulled out a bottle of tequila – best moonshine in all of Baja. "Jesus sends his regards, by the way." He poured, filling the two glasses halfway. No need for pansy shots. Probie needed more than a few shots to forget what happened. He nudged one glass over to the younger man and took the second in one hand. "To Jenny," he said softly, thinking of an old psalm from his youth for the sick, praying for her speedy recovery.

Gibbs tapped his glass against Mike's and downed half of his glass in one go. It burned like hell, but the pain felt good. It was far too easy to lose himself in the burn of the tequila as it settled in his stomach. "You know," he said, voice raspy from the cigarette and tequila, "something about all of this isn't sitting right with me. It doesn't feel like she's dead."

Mike looked over at him. It was times like these where he wondered if Probie was psychic or something. "If she did survive what happened, you really think she's out there, running around? She's got no home to return to. Besides, I saw her body when I finished off her assassins. She was dead." Perhaps Probie needed this, to forget about her so she could go and live her life the way she wanted to. "Let her go, or you'll end up in the same place you were in when I found you seventeen years ago." When he had tracked down Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs to that little nook at the beach, empty bottle of bourbon at his feet and gun to his temple. "Don't think I got it in me to pull the gun away this time. You know me these days. I'm just a second too slow."

Gibbs nodded. "I know, Mike, and I trust you." He finished his glass and poured himself another, feeling Mike's dark eyes on him the whole time. "You don't have to baby-sit me, Mike, I'm not your Probie anymore." He downed the second glass like it was water, then found himself regretting that decision. He winced and coughed when the burn caught up with him. "What did Jesus put in this batch?"

"Oh, little of this, little of that." Mike shrugged and finished his first glass, watching as Probie poured himself a third. "He claimed that this batch would let 'el bebedor ve Dios' or somethin'." He poured a second glass, but only filled it a third of the way full. Unlike Probie, who was pouring full glasses every time he went back to the bottle. "Might want to take it easy, Probie. Stuff's stronger than you think."

Gibbs waved him off, wondering when he would feel the drink hit him. He had one last glass, barely glancing back at the bottle, which was over half empty. "I think I should go work on the boat." He let the cigarette butt fall into the empty beer can and stood, shaking his head when the tequila started to affect him. By the time he made it down to the basement, the world was spinning. It wasn't long before he passed out on the floor, curled slightly as he lay on his side.

***

"_Jethro..."_

_He flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder. But it wasn't a warm hand. It was icy cold, and he tried to move away from the touch that was perversely comforting. He knew that touch intimately._

"_Wake up."_

_He _knew_ that voice. That husky, sexy, purr that somehow always got him hard, and that hard, demanding tone that he resented seemed to meld into one. He opened one eye blearily, expecting a major headache from all of the tequila he had the night before, and saw the one thing he wanted and feared the most._

_There she stood, in the outfit she had been wearing the day she died. Bloody, eyes vacant, with one gunshot wound in her shoulder, another in her stomach. Blood matted her beautiful hair, staining it a darker shade of red. She gave him that look, the half-disappointed half-angry look she had given him during her Frog hunt. "__"Wake up, Jethro." She growled, easing herself down slightly to be more near his eye level. "You don't have a right to sleep. I'm dead, and you're passed out drunk on your basement floor? What happened to you? When Kate got killed you chased Ari to hell and back. What? I'm not good enough? Because I said 'no'? I'm not enough that you would go and fix this? Give me a reason to move on?"_

_He sat up and tried to move away from her. "Jen, we took care of her." He couldn't tear his eyes away from hers; the life was gone, but still such anger radiated from them. "Svetlana, I lured her to your home and Mike finished her." He stopped when he felt his back hit the lower shelf of his workbench. "I want you to move on. Quit haunting me and move on!"_

_"How can I move on when all you do is wallow about how you didn't make a move! How you never tried hard enough!?" She shouted, "Look at me! I did this to save you! I was the one who fucked up, and then I saved your ass! And this is what I got for it?! How is that fair, Jethro!? Tell me how that's fair!"_

_"Just. Forget about me. Move on! Quit trying to keep me here! You made it clear that I was never going to have you and then you insisted on rubbing it my face! If I couldn't have you even though I tried why the hell won't you let me go?" The blood spread a little more, it seemed like she lost more blood the more angry she got. "Damn it Jethro, What more do you want from me?!"_

"_I loved you!" he shouted, recoiling slightly when he saw her bleed more. "I loved you, Jen," he growled, calming slightly when it came out. "I can't forget you. I never will." He wasn't going to let this image of Jen haunt him. "What do I have to do to show that to you?" He reached for the revolver he kept under one of the benches for home defense purposes. It felt so real in his hands, this entire nightmare did. At least, he hoped it was a nightmare._

_"What are you going to do? Shoot me? You think that will get rid of me? I hate to break it to you, Jethro, but I'm already dead!" She shouted, realizing he had other intentions for the gun. "You don't want to shoot me... You want to kill yourself." She said slowly, realization clouding her vacant eyes. "Maybe you should do it, Jethro. If you love me so much, maybe you should kill yourself. Maybe I'll be able to move on if you're there with me..." Her voice had grown colder._

_He nodded slowly and loaded the gun. "What would I gain with shooting you?" He looked up at her and put the revolver to his temple. "I'd rather shoot myself and be with you." He looked into those vacant eyes one last time. "I can't do this alone anymore." He closed his eyes and his finger tensed on the trigger..._


	4. Better To Have Loved

_Okay, so, the rating isn't going up in this chapter. But it will in the next one- I promise ;) Review, let me know what you think so far. Sorry if this ones a little slacky, I'm tired, I wrote it early in the morning lol. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy._

* * *

Jen jumped, suddenly fully aware of everything around her. The room was bright; it was really early. She groaned when her shoulder protested against her sudden movement and she pulled herself to sit up. It had been the strangest dream, she thought about it- at least what she could remember. She managed her way to the edge of the bed, cursing softly at the pain as blood coursed its way through her entire body properly now that she stood. She stumbled a little but made her way toward the bathroom, pausing momentarily near the door when she heard Ducky telling Jay stories down in the kitchen. She tried desperately not to think about the dream she'd been having, it was dreadful, and it was painful. She figured, though, it hadn't been a dream entirely but in fact a memory mixed in with a dream.

She finally made her way downstairs, her expression clearly troubled as she sat down at the table slowly, wincing at the pain in her arm. "God, of all the times I've been shot, I have to admit shoulder is the worst. I can't do anything without it hurting." She sighed, smiling warily at her son who looked slightly worried. "I'm alright, why don't you go upstairs and read for a while, while I talk to Uncle Ducky?" She suggested, although her eyes right out asked him to go upstairs without question.

Jay nodded a little, sliding off of his chair and making his way toward the stairs. He half hugged his mother when he passed, being careful of his shoulder. "I hope you feel better today." He said quietly before kissing her on the cheek and running away.

Jen smiled a little, watching him run off. "I definitely did something right with him." She laughed softly, looking up at Ducky once they were finally alone. "Tell me. What happened after I left Jethro?" She asked, resting her good arm on the table and resting her chin on her hand, watching him expectantly.

"Ah, you remember now?" He said quietly, watching her body language warily, gauging the pain she showed. "Have you taken any painkiller today?" He asked, wanting to make sure she was all right before she stressed herself out with learning the last eight years.

"Yeah, I took some upstairs. Now please tell me." She said rather sternly, letting him know that even though she'd taken something, the pain hadn't quite dulled yet.

"The most I know, Jennifer, is that after you left you continued to do off-shore work. You continued working in Europe and in the East and he stayed here and buried himself in his work after he ended up marrying Stephanie." He shrugged slightly. It was really the best he could offer, they hadn't talked much until she'd come back as the Director.

"So he did marry her." She said quietly, her eyes darkening slightly in a jealousy her old self would have thought was long gone.

"Oh yes, but he got so involved with his work they ended up fighting and divorcing anyway. He was quite hung up on you, my dear." He told her, getting up to get some tea for her. It had always helped relax her before. He set the hot tea in front of her and sat down again, almost smiling when she looked relieved that Jethro and Stephanie had divorced.

"So… He did marry her after I left, but they fought because of a lack of communication and… You really think he was that hung up on me?" She asked, clearly desperate for an answer.

He simply nodded, "He seemed very upset when you left him on that plane. He even tried living in Moscow at one point. Do you remember why you left?" He asked, knowing she hated it when he picked at her brain, but he needed to know how much she recalled.

"Yeah. I remember… He had been on the phone with her and we were on a stake out… I don't remember what he said but I remember being extremely angry at him- of course I was emotional from my hormones being crazy... and I had just found out I was pregnant with Jay. Jethro said I kept assuming and jumping to conclusions because of what I had heard him say to her," She sighed with frustration. "Damn it, why can't I remember what he said?" She cursed quietly, her body language letting on that she was more frustrated than she cared to show.

"Stephanie had always suspected that there was something between the two of you, but she was never sure." He explained, "But, of course you know, communication is not exactly Jethro's strongest characteristic, hmm?"

She smiled weakly, taking another small sip of her tea. "No, I guess you're right. But him and I seemed to have no trouble communicating. I mean, we didn't talk a lot but it was like we always knew what the other was thinking." She said quietly, "I don't get it. Am I the only one like that?" She asked, "Am I the only one who can talk to him without it leading to a fight about miscommunication?"

"It seems that way, yes. At least, as far as I can tell." He nodded, "Do you remember anything from after you left?" He asked, watching her carefully.

"I remember… Working in the east- Cairo. That's where I met Ziva." She said quietly, "I remember being surprised that Mossad had officer's so young. But she was a damn good agent. She saved my life. She was also the first person I'd been with after Jethro." She smiled thoughtfully at the memory.

"I always suspected there was something more than a working relationship between you and Ziva." He chuckled, relaxing a little at her thoughtful smile. "Anything else? We don't need to go into detail about anything right now we just need a basis to work from."

She shook her head, "Not really. I don't remember much more after that." She sighed, slouching back in her chair slightly. "Guess it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all, right?" She sighed again, sitting up and taking a drink from her mug of tea. She stood, taking a deep breath to steady herself before making her way across the kitchen. "I think… Maybe I should go live with my mother- at least for a few weeks. Maybe that will help me get some more of my memory back," She suggested, turning to face him.

"I assure you it's no problem that you're staying here, Jennifer, but if you think it will help you I'm not going to stop you." He smiled a little more, "I will help you the best I can, my dear." It truly was the best he could offer.

"Thank you, Ducky." She said quietly, setting the empty cup down on the counter and making her way out of the room. "I'll send Jay back down, I know he enjoys hearing your stories." She chuckled.

"Thank you, I do enjoy telling them!" He called after her.

She laughed softly, making her way up the stairs slowly. "Jay, you can go listen to the rest of his story now." She said softly when she passed him in the hall. She walked to the room she currently occupied and closed the door, making her way over to sit on the bed. She thought hard for a few long moments about what possibly happened after Ziva. She vaguely remembered being the Director of NCIS… But it was so blurred, she couldn't be sure. She sighed deeply and dug for her phone in her bag, turning it on and going through the contacts. She made a face at a few names she didn't really recognize, but finally found the number she was looking for. She sighed deeply before hitting send to connect the call. She waited anxiously for a few moments for someone to pick up and relaxed a little when someone did. "Mom?" She said quietly, hearing the rather exasperated reply on the other end. "Yes, it's Jenny. No. I assure you I'm very much alive… Can I ask you a favor?"

_*******_


End file.
